


Discretion

by Cenea



Category: Take That
Genre: Angst, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cenea/pseuds/Cenea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reunion studio sex. One-shot written in July 2010, just after the announcement about Rob rejoining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discretion

The studio door closes quietly, and Mark smiles up at Robbie from that sofa. Fine lines crinkle at the side of his eyes, and those dimples deepen.

‘It’s like a fucking dream, Rob.’

‘Yeah. But did we ever wake up?’

Mark pauses, skimming his tongue over his lips, and Robbie grins. Robbie’s grinned so much lately that the muscles in his cheeks start to ache.

‘Ever wake up? No. Probably not.’ Mark laughs, and it sounds beautifully dirty. ‘You nervous?’

‘Shitting myself.’

‘Good,’ replies Mark, ‘'cos I bloody well am. They’ll be more crap in the papers, you know.’ He pauses, slumping back against the sofa and running his fingers through that limply luxurious fringe. ‘It’s all my fault.’

Robbie pulls a face, not quite indifferent, then shrugs. Next moment he’s on the sofa next to Mark, and they’re laughing again. Fuck knows what about. Who cares? Robbie half-wonders if Mark fancies a drink. Being here, next to him, Robbie sure as hell does. But they won’t.

When did they get so strong? Or so weak.

Robbie doesn’t quite know why the tip of his forefinger is now poking at Mark’s dimples. For a moment, it’s all ladsy fun, but then it’s his thumb that he’s dragging across that smoothly shaven cheek.

Something shifts in Mark’s eye; long lashes flutter, and the creases deepen. They shouldn’t do this, not now.

So Robbie’s large hand slips to cup Mark’s neck, urging him on. Mark plunges forward, presses those shining, moist lips to Robbie’s, and then traces the seam of his friend’s mouth with the tip of his tongue.

Mark’s half-straddling Robbie’s lap before he knows it, scrubbing himself and laughing. Then he stops, scrunching his face like he’s in pain. He’s only a quarter of a way there.

‘Fuck, Rob…’

‘What?’ Rob squeaks the word out, balls his fist in the back of Mark’s hair, and kisses like this really is it. Teeth scrape against tender flesh, lips swell and bruise. Mark kisses back, more brutal than ever. It’s Robbie who pulls away, gasping.

‘God, Markie!’

***

‘It’s been a while,’ thinks Mark, half-surprised that his mind hasn’t dissolved yet. It hurts, though, and it’s good that it hurts. He’s back on that knife-edge between twisted pleasure and blissful pain, the place where he wants to be.

Rob's fucking him. Mark grunts and bucks back against him, impaling himself ever deeper. He grabs for his own needy cock, but Rob’s there – he’s good. Robbie’s thrusts away, powerful and muscular, and, God, he’s big, and even better now that he’s sober.

It’s an improvement on doing this drunk, thinks Mark, as he twists on the sofa. Agh! It’s like fresh air in your lungs, sunshine on your face. It’s being fucked by Robbie Williams, like twenty years have never passed. Hard and erratic, damn, yes…finally, now, finally, it’s all beginning to disintegrate…

Jesus, that hurts, oh fuck, yes, yes, YES!

Mark bites into the sofa, and it tastes of nothing.

***

Jason’s been listening. He’s poised on the other side of the door, knuckles brushing lightly against the wood.

He nearly left ten minutes ago, when he first realized Mark and Rob were there alone, and he’s still not quite sure why he didn’t. He doesn’t need to protect them now. Nobody here would talk. Everything’s so expensive these days.

Mark’s not laughing anymore. He’s doing that weird gasping and sobbing thing. He’s happy. Robbie’s making his comedy noise, the one that wavers between the high-pitched and the guttural. He always sounds like that when he’s getting close.

Jason lets a smile twitch on the edge of his lips, and leans back against the door. It’ll pass.

It’s a good job, he thinks, that one person in Mark’s life has learnt how to be discreet.


End file.
